How they began
by Lord Brudon
Summary: We delve into the annals of the ancient times - the stories that had been shrouded in dust are now presented anew. Here are the chronicles of the events that convinced the magic users of the land to use their powers for good or for evil. Be the intelligent, agile or strong, good or evil, no stories are too difficult to tackle.


Huskar's Revenge

Since its creation, the Dezun Order had been shrouded in secrecy. They had been called many things over the years. Heretics. Warlocks. Guardians. Harbingers. But in reality, the Dezun were nothing but watchers. For centuries they had gazed into the twisted Nothl realm, where light was darkness, and darkness was light. For aeons they had dreamt of venturing into this realm themselves – a purely spiritual journey, of course, that would bring about enlightenment for those who braved the shadowy recesses in this dangerous, but thrilling quest.

And a few short years ago, they actually managed to do it. The first to travel to the Nothl realm and return alive (countless acolytes had attempted the trip before and had been left nothing but shriveled husks) was a senior priest in the Dezun Order. When he returned, all members of the Dezun were curious to know what he had seen. But the look of horror in his eyes, his gaunt expression, and his shaking body deterred many the curious observer. But one young acolyte, still nameless, begged the old man to tell him the way to the Nothl realm. But the old man refused, and the nameless one went away saddened.

In the years following many more, freed their spirits to attempt the dangerous journey. Many perished, seared alive by the primal energies that governed the planes. Many were trapped in that deadly realm, unable to return to their mortal bodies, and henced perished when the vessels they had so eagerly cast aside failed due to lack of food, drink and sleep. Some returned, but were hideously deformed, occasionally to the extent that they took their own life. Those who came back and retained their sanity (most were left mute, or dumb) spoke of a place of fire and blood, of shadows and light, where mighty blue-skinned warriors twice as tall as any man fought for the sheer pleasure of bloodlust.

Over time, the nameless acolyte expressed a desire to take the journey himself. Many argued against it – he was young, and showed great promise at the Dezun's rites – to cast himself away on a journey many thought suicidal would have been poor indeed. But nonetheless, the acolyte devoted himself to the task, and set about preparing his mind and body for that fateful journey.

One day, when the acolyte was hard at working murmuring mantras for strengthening mind and body as he simultaneously shrouded his skin in protective shadow enchantments, an elderly man passed by the door. The acolyte gazed up at the stranger, and recognized him as the first man to return alive from the Nothl realm. Grasping the man's hand in welcome – he was a legend amongst the order, the acolyte fell before him in reverence and asked for assistance in preparing for his rite of passage. The priest assented and together they disciplined the boys mind and strengthened his flesh.

After three months, the boy was prepared. Thanking his master one last time, he imbibed the sacred potion, loosening his soul from his flesh. The boy fell into a deep stupor. When he awoke, he was floating above his body. He turned his attention away from the physical plane, and using his master's teaching, guided his spirit into the Nothl realm. Once he entered the realm, the boy paused in amazement. The sky was dark and black. The earth meanwhile gleamed with darkness. Rivers of fire flowed freely, and blue-skinned warriors ran along these rivers, spears in hand hunting the enormous four-legged beasts that ran ahead and spewed flames that were cold and bit with frost.

After travelling amongst these wonders for a while, the boy saw a warrior standing alone, spear clasped in one hand. As he approached the figure, the beast turned to face him. With a thrill of fear, the boy realized the man could see him. He tried to vanish, to find his way home, but his fear prevented him. The warrior charged, and seized hold of him. The boy grappled with the much larger foe, searing him with bolts of shadow magic, desperately tearing at the man, both physically and ripping at the soul inside him. Eventually the warrior roared with pain and loosened his grip. The boy desperately searched for the way home, and shifted himself back into the physical plane.

When the boy returned, he immediately heard the cries of delight and accomplishment of his tribe. He had been twisted by the Nothl realm, transformed into something shriveled and hunched like a crow – a symbol of death. But his physical transformation was nothing compared to the power that had been instilled in him – he had been converted into a battery of shadow magic, able to distort the world with his very whim.

It was only moments after he returned that he realized that he had done something no member of the Dezun had ever done before.

He had not returned alone.


End file.
